


Midnight into Morning Coffee

by buckychrist



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-29 11:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckychrist/pseuds/buckychrist
Summary: What Bucky thought was going to be a normal evening, with him going home after a long night of work and passing out, ends up being the adventure he never expected to have when he follows you on your drunken quest of vengeance, acceptance, and moving on, and somewhere along the way, finds those things for himself.





	1. 11:32 PM

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a rom-com gone wrong. Let me know what you think!

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, buddy.”

The stranger got up from his boothe, obviously trying to size Bucky up. Although, it’s hard to play confident when Bucky had at least half a foot and fifty pounds of muscle to his advantage. But that didn’t stop the scrawny man from getting up in his personal space and slamming his chest into Bucky’s with a mixed look of anger and confidence on his face. Bucky bit his lip from the sudden contact, not wanting to instigate by laughing in Tough Guy’s face.

“Why don’t you make me, pal?” The drunken stranger challenged, getting in Bucky’s face once again. His breath reeked of whiskey and bar fries, making Bucky’s nose slightly scrunch up in disgust and pull his head away. A laugh escaped his mouth as his shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. It wasn’t like him to decline a request from a customer.

“You asked,” He said simply, before grabbing the man and throwing him over his shoulder. Alarmed, Tough Guy wasn’t so tough anymore as he fought tooth and nail to be set free, kicking his legs in all directions and haphazardly throwing punches into Bucky’s torso, but not once did the grip on his legs let up. Bucky kicked the front door open, the cool night air immediately hitting his face, before he dropped the pest in a heap of trash sitting outside the building. As he turned back to the bar, he heard the man let out a groan before yelling a stream of profanities at him. Not that it bothered him in the slightest. It was just another night at Stark’s, a little dive bar in Brooklyn.

“And don’t come back!” Bucky lightheartedly called over his shoulder as the door swung shut behind him, warmth overcoming him once more as the music hit his ears. He walked around the bar, grabbing a glass from the shelf. The bartender looked over at him as he had just finished taking an order from a girl sitting at the bar, eyeing him with glossy, drunk eyes.

“What happened there?” Sam asked as he poured a screwdriver for the lady, whose friends were whispering in her ear. Bucky shrugged, filling his glass with water. He was so used to this sort of thing that it didn’t even affect him anymore, although his coworkers still liked to hear about the drama. And he didn’t blame them. It wasn’t always just as simple as throwing a guy out for being a dick, but most of the time, like this time around, it was.

“The guy was being an ass to his date, so I booted him out.” It was a simple enough explanation, Bucky thought. Not that he ever really needed one. That was the nice thing about being the bouncer. He didn’t always need a reason as long as no glasses got broken or tables got flipped. That was the only rule that Stark gave him when he was hired in. So really, any time he heard someone drunkenly slinging disgusting comments towards their date, or using racial slurs at the pool table, they all had the same fate. Walking over to the sink, he caught Sam nodding out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” He agreed. “That’s the way it tends to go.” Bucky filled his glass and took a long swig. Sam watched him. “What time do you get out?” He checked the clock as he brought the glass down from his mouth. Through the noise of the crowd, he felt like he could hear the second hand slowly ticking the seconds away. Teasing him.

“Just another twenty seven minutes until Steve shows up,” He sighed in relief. “Remind me to never cover for that asshole again. I was supposed to be off today.” He took another gulp of his water as Sam served the drink to his customer, shoving his fairly large tip in his pocket before turning back to Bucky.

“Maybe Peggy had something going on, her being pregnant and all.” Bucky scoffed as he finished the water, dumping the remainder of the ice in the sink and cleaning it out himself. He wasn’t genuinely mad at Steve. More inconvenienced than anything. After setting the glass down on a towel to dry, he turned and leaned on the bar, eyeing everyone while on the lookout for trouble. A familiar face caught his eye, catching him by surprise. He stared in silence for a moment, making sure it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him.

“Is that Quill?”

Sam turned, taking a look around before spotting the figure Bucky had his eyes on. When Bucky looked over at the bartender, he found him looking equally surprised.

“I guess it is. What’s that bastard doing here?”

Both sets of eyes jumped to the stage, watching the performer carefully strum at the guitar with closed eyes. Bucky looked back at Quill, who wasn’t even paying attention when, in Bucky’s opinion, he shouldn’t have been looking at anything else. Anger rose in his chest as he looked back up at the source of the calming guitar melody.

“That would explain why she was throwing back drinks like her life depended on it,” Sam remarked. Bucky didn’t say anything as he continued to watch the performer onstage.

You leaned forward and began to sing, your voice sounding like a siren as your eyes remained closed. He noticed almost right away that you weren’t using your usual mahogany colored acoustic guitar, instead using a black one covered with band stickers. It didn’t take him long to figure out who it belonged to. Though your voice sounded as amazing as always, your heart just didn’t seem in it this time around. Eyelids drooping, strums more sloppy. Bucky wondered how he didn’t notice it earlier when he saw you come through the door, but at that point you were probably your normal self. Quill wasn’t with you when you arrived. Of course you’d be okay.

It was no secret that you and Peter didn’t have the healthiest of relationships, but Bucky didn’t have the opportunity to see it often. Quill used to come to the Tuesday open mics at Stark’s at the beginning of his relationship with you every week without fail. But then, almost suddenly after the first four months, he stopped coming regularly, only once in a blue moon. During the first two months without his consistency, it was evident to Bucky that it bothered you. Your head would whip around expectantly every time the door opened. You’d hold off on your performance until the very end. Eventually, however, you stopped waiting. Now, almost a year later, it almost seemed like Peter coming at all threw you off your rhythm. You were quieter when he was there, less poised. And your performances never had the same liveliness as they did when he was absent.

“Did you see who else is here?” Sam asked, breaking Bucky from his thoughts. He eyed the bartender, raising an eyebrow. All Sam did was nod in the direction of the pool table, and it didn’t take long for Bucky to catch the sea of red bending down to take her shot.

“God, why does she only seem to come when I’m working?” He groaned, Sam chuckling as he wandered over to the mini fridge to put the orange juice away. Bucky’s hands ran down his face, his fingers rubbing his chin.

“You know why,” Sam replied simply while Bucky turned his back to his ex-girlfriend. “She knows it bothers you.” Bucky’s head rolled onto his shoulder to glare at Sam, who lifted his hands up in innocence. “You know it’s true. She’s always wanted to keep the upper hand on you. That’s why you two always end up back together. She keeps herself on your radar.” Bucky shook his head, turning away.

“We’re not getting back together this time.” And for once, he meant it. But all Sam did was scoff.

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky abandoned his friend, walking over to his position against the wall. From his spot, he could see Quill, who was laughing with his friends as he had his back to you. During your song, Bucky kept catching you looking over at Quill sadly before looking forward again, with blank eyes. As you played the final note of your last song of the night, Bucky eyed the clock.

Twenty minutes.

Although he tried his damn best not to look, he still caught Nat looking at him as she poured honey in the ear of the tall man leaning on the pool table next to her, her mouth so close to him that her lips were almost touching it. He fought the urge to make gagging noises as he looked away, looking up at you instead.

Unhurriedly, you put the guitar back in its case. Bucky found himself wondering if you were going so slow because you were hammered, or because you were putting off going over and talking to your boyfriend who spent the better part of his night ignoring you. Once you finished, you turned to join the crowd and almost fell face first off the stage. Bucky jerked forward in time for you to catch yourself on a table. A nice save for someone who was having a hard time walking straight.

Just a few tables away from where Bucky stood, he saw you approach Peter, a nervous look on your face. A minute passed before Quill bothered to turn around, seeming to finally get annoyed by you trying to get his attention.

“Hey! I didn’t think you were coming!” The excitement in your voice was unprecedented, and didn’t seem to match your eyes. “Did you listen?” Even with the distance, Bucky could still hear the slur in your voice.

“I was trying not to,” Quill said as he stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth, not bothering to look up at you. “When was the last time you practiced? You sounded flatter than a twelve year old girl’s chest. And you’re fucking plastered. Very professional.” Your response came faster than Bucky’s jaw drop.

“Good to know you’re staring at twelve year old girls’ chests, Peter.”

Quill’s eyes widened while Bucky bit his lip closed. You turned around and walked away just as Peter stood up, his seat scooting back so fast that it almost tumbled backward.

“Out of everything I said, that’s what you latch onto?” Quill yelled after you, making heads around the room turn.

As you tried to blow passed Bucky, you lost your footing and stumbled, catching yourself with his shirt. He grabbed you under your arms to stop you from hitting the floor.

“Hey, hey, easy there,” He said in a calm voice, raising you back to your feet. “You alright?” You let go of his shirt, your eyes trained on the floor.

“Sorry, Bucky,” You whispered before walking away again. Bucky watched you leave, throwing the door open just as a blonde figure was walking in, him turning and watching the door swing shut behind you. He could’ve sworn he heard Steve call your name after you, but he couldn’t be sure over the noise.

“Got something to say, Barnes?”

Bucky turned to Quill, who had his chest puffed out as he approached. Not threatened, Bucky shrugged while trying to hold back a smirk.

“How you likin’ those twelve year olds, Quill?” Peter’s face turned tomato red, which didn’t help Bucky’s fight to keep a straight face. “I knew you liked ‘em young, but didn’t realize it was the prepubescent that got you going.”

Within seconds, Quill was in Bucky’s face.

“Say it again,” He challenged. Bucky stood up straighter, equaling Peter’s height.

“Don’t make me lay your ass out again at my own bar.” Bucky’s voice was laced with venom within its warning tone. “If you think I’m afraid, you got another thing coming.” Peter raised his fists, but before they could make contact with Bucky, he was yanked backward.

“Take a walk, Quill,” Steve growled as he made himself a barrier between him and Bucky. Peter’s eyes didn’t leave the brunette once, but Steve didn’t falter. “Maybe go find your girlfriend.” Breaking his death glare on Bucky, Peter shot Steve a look before adjusting his jacket and storming off. The bell rang out loudly as he jerked the door open, and sent one last glare over his shoulder before the door blocked him from view.

“I had it handled,” Bucky said as Steve turned, a disapproving look on his face.

“Getting fired for kicking a guy’s ass up and down the bar is not having it handled,” Steve informed him. “I hate the guy too, and so does Stark, but you’re at work.” Bucky rolled his eyes, deciding to just change the subject. He didn’t need another one of Steve’s famous lectures about what kind of person he should be.

“So, where’ve you been all day? Is Pegs okay?” At the sound of his wife’s name, Steve perked up before pulling his phone from his pocket.

“We had another ultrasound today and we found out the gender.” He was talking fast out of excitement, before holding up his phone to Bucky. On the screen was a black and white picture of a tiny fetus. “It’s a girl. I’m having a baby girl, Buck.” When Bucky looked back at his best friend, he found tears streaming down Steve’s face. Immediately, he pulled Steve into a hug.

“Congratulations, man,” He said, getting a little choked up himself. He could recall Steve telling him the news when him and Peggy first found out, and then immediately asking him to be the godfather of the baby. It was something Bucky took seriously, even before the baby’s arrival. When he let Steve go, the both of them were beaming brightly.

“We went out to dinner and saw that movie she’s been raving about for the last few weeks,” Steve told him. “I fell asleep halfway through, but I don’t think she noticed. When I woke up she was sobbing.” He shrugged. “What I saw of it was okay.” Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shook his head.

“And now you’re here.”

Steve shrugged. “Got to spend my day with my best girl, kissed her goodnight before she went to bed, and then I came to work. Can’t beat that.” Bucky looked down before nodding, not saying anything further on the topic. Steve adjusted the strap of the backpack hanging off his shoulder. “Just let me go put my stuff away and clock in. Thanks for covering the first half of my shift. I really appreciate it.” He clapped Bucky’s shoulder before walking behind the bar and disappearing to the back room.

“Buck, do you mind taking out the trash before you go?” Sam called to him. Bucky shrugged.

“Sure.”

“Thanks, man.” Sam gave him a lopsided smile. “I’d do it but, you know, only bartender on duty. Can’t disappoint all the ladies who need a drink of this.” Pointing his thumbs towards himself, he rocked his hips from side to side, rolling his shoulders backwards as Bucky stared at him with a blank expression.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna take the trash now,” Bucky said as Steve came back out from the break room. Upon seeing his best friend, Bucky immediately walked over and snatched the bag of trash.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Sam said, watching Bucky as he walked out the door.

“I don’t.”

“It’s okay. You can keep pretending, bro. I know the truth.”

The door to the back hallway swung shut as Bucky rolled his eyes. When he opened the back exit, the cold air hit him immediately, making him wish he had grabbed his jacket before leaving. The dumpster was only a few yards down the alleyway, so he couldn’t complain too much. As he walked, Bucky thought about his ten minute walk home before he got to his heated apartment. With winter coming soon, he knew he’d eventually have to start driving to work. There was no way he was going to walk through the snow.

The sound of the bag hitting the empty bottom of the dumpster filled the silent alleyway. It must’ve been emptied today, he thought to himself. As he turned to head back inside, a pair of loud voices in the distance stopped him.

“-always make me feel like shit after I perform. Can’t you just tell me I do a good job and leave it at that?”

“You do do a good job, I’m just trying to help you be better!”

“You saying you’re trying to make me do better would imply that you think you’re better than me.”

He spotted you first, stumbling into view as you were trying to walk away from Quill, who was in no way struggling to catch up to you.

“Is it not obvious that I am?” He asked, making you stop dead in your tracks. When you whirled around so Bucky couldn’t see your face, Quill rose his hands in innocence. “I do this for a living for fucks sake. This is my career. It’s just a hobby for you. Obviously I’d take it a little more seriously,” He said, and you shook your head.

“You do this for a living and you’re better than me yet you still live in your parents’ basement.” Bucky’s hand gripped his chest. Even he felt the blow of that rebuttal. He looked at the door of the bar, telling himself to go back inside. It wasn’t a good idea for him to stick around and eavesdrop. Besides, he wanted to get home. But for some reason, his feet wouldn’t move.

“They’re supporting me until I take off.” Quill’s voice was defensive, growing more angry.

“Asking your mom for cigarette money is freeloading, there’s a difference.” Bucky tried to recall if you were always this savage or if it was just when you had been drinking, but he couldn’t off the top of his head.

Quill took a step towards you, his face growing red in anger, and before he could stop himself, Bucky stepped out of the shadows.

“Alright, break it up,” He said smoothly, making you jump slightly before you spun around. When Quill broke his glare at you to look up at Bucky, he began to laugh, but there was barely any humor in it.

“Man, you just can’t mind your business today, can you, Barnes?” He demanded. You took a step towards Bucky, raising a hand towards him. He couldn’t help but notice that fragility in your expression. The cracks were painted across your skin, and it felt like one more push and you would break.

“It’s okay, Bucky-“

“Don’t talk to him,” Quill barked, grabbing your shoulder and yanking you backwards. You whipped around, your face suddenly filled with anger. There it was. The break. Although, it wasn’t the kind of break Bucky was expecting.

“I’ll talk to whoever the fuck I want to.” Peter was shocked, as was Bucky. But you didn’t let up. “We’re done, Peter. This is over.” Bucky looked down at the ground, trying desperately to not look up to see the pure shock on Quill’s face. But he couldn’t resist. Peter’s mouth was hanging open as he stared at you.

“You’re drunk,” He stated, but you shrugged.

“I’ll feel the same in the morning when I’m hungover, and even still when I’m sober in the evening.”

Bucky’s eyes fell from Peter and onto you. Even with only a profile view, he could still see the fire in your eyes, and the challenge in your expression. He had never seen you look so sure about something, even sober, which is how he knew you meant it.

Peter took a step forward, reaching out for you.

“Come on, babe.” His tone was suddenly gentle, but he was having a hard time hiding the anger in his expression, which Bucky could still see. “Let’s talk about this.” The second his hand touched your skin, you jerked away as if it burned you.

“Fuck off, Peter!” You snapped firmly. Bucky and you weren’t friends, but he still felt a surge of pride at you standing up for yourself. The expression on Quill’s face read dumbfounded. He stared at you for another second before his eyes jumped up to Bucky, who shrugged.

“You heard the lady.”

Peter’s confusion melted into anger, shooting Bucky a glare before turning and stalking off. The two of you watched him as he disappeared back into the bar before you turned around.

“You didn’t need to do that,” You told him, your voice suddenly slurred again as if you hadn’t just been sober the last few minutes.

“And yet I did it anyway,” He said, watching you sway. “Do you need me to call someone to take you home?” You rapidly shook your head, your face suddenly cantored in thought.

“No, I need to get a cab,” You mumbled, suddenly turning towards the street. Bucky grabbed your shoulder, trying to be gentle to not hurt or startle you. When you looked at him, it was with a mix of surprise and confusion.

“Let me go grab my coat and I’ll walk with you, okay? Make sure you’re safe.” You shook your head again.

“I don’t need you to do that. I’ll be fine.”

He sighed. Maybe if you were sober, he’d trust you to get home okay. But you were not, and he knew it wasn’t a ten minute walk for you like it was for him. And his conscience wouldn’t allow him to let you go off in the city by yourself at this time of night.

“I’m not letting you go wandering the city and on the subway like this, would you just wait here?” He asked, before adding on a more polite, “Please.” Your head rolled backwards in annoyance.

“Fine,” You said. “Hurry up though. If you’re not back in two minutes, I’m leaving without you.” He began to head towards the back door again, before turning back around and pointing at you.

“Stay there.” Cue your eye roll.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bucky.” He didn’t believe you in the slightestt, but he went inside anyway. Throwing open his locker, he grabbed his jacket and checked that his wallet was inside before clocking out–four minutes late, he noticed–and walking back out the door. Sure enough, he found you right where he left you.

“Alright, I’m suited up,” He said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You weren’t paying attention though, as you were looking up and down the street in search of a cab. He watched. “Cabs don’t normally stop over here unless someone’s called for them. You’ll have to move down a couple of blocks.” Slowly, you lowered your hand, before turning and making your way down the sidewalk without a word. Bucky began walking next to you.

“So, where are we headed?” Once he asked the question, he could see the gears moving in your mind as your drunken brain was putting your thoughts together.

“I need to get to take the subway from Hoyt Street to West 125th,” You explained in one breath, your head tipping to the side as you walked. A few steps later, you stumbled, and Bucky caught your arm on instinct. You weren’t the first drunk he had to save from falling. It came with the territory of his job.

“West 125th in Harlem?”

“Yes sir.”

Something wasn’t right. Bucky knew it as soon as you said Harlem. There was something about it that sounded off, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. He tried to recall what little information he knew of you.

“Don’t you live in Hell’s Kitchen?” He asked as you got to a street corner and almost walked in front of traffic before Bucky grabbed you and pulled you back. He knew, by the time he got you home, he would have no less than three stomach ulcers from your drunken recklessness.

“I dooooo.” Your voice was elevated, as if the last half hour hadn’t happened. “I’m not going to my place.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you. It was that moment that he realized that maybe he should’ve just called you a cab and gone on home, but he didn’t stop walking just a step behind you.

“Then where are we going?” Despite the fact that he asked, he found himself dreading the answer. You stared straight ahead, a smile filling your cheeks as the Do Not Walk sign changed to Walk.

“Peter’s.” Not another word of explanation came from you as you walked into the street, leaving a dumbfounded Bucky behind.


	2. 12:07 AM

By the time Bucky processed what you had said, the sign had changed back to Do Not Walk, and you were already on the other side of the street. He booked it after you, ignoring the car horns that blared in his ears. It wasn’t hard to catch up with you walking slow to avoid tripping.

“Why are we going to Quill’s?” He asked as he slowed down, trying to catch his breath. You glanced up at him, looking him up and down for a quick second before facing forward again. Your face read determined, and while Bucky respected it, he wasn’t liking the direction it was headed in at all.

“My stuff is there. Like my guitar, and I think I might have a phone charger there too. Maybe some underwear. I can’t remember if there’s anything else.” As you looked upward with thoughtful eyes, Bucky stared at you in disbelief.

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” He was even more bewildered when you shook your head no.

“I need to do it tonight so I don’t have to see him again,” You said, your voice suddenly quiet. He nodded, not arguing any further. He knew that feeling better than anyone. When he had broken up with Natasha, he waited until she was at work to grab his stuff and return her key to her apartment. Still, he was sober when he did it, and he wasn’t sure if your intentions were as pure as you were letting on.

“We can go tomorrow, me and you, while Quill is there, and grab your stuff,” He suggested. “You’ll be sober. Thinking things through more clearly. It won’t seem like you’re going in and stealing stuff from him. And if he talks to you or tries to pull anything, I’ll just kick his ass. Everyone wins. It’ll be great.” He rose his hands out at you, hoping you would take his suggestion. By the way you exhaled sharply, he knew he had lost.

“Bucky, I’m going tonight whether you go with me or not,” You grumbled. “You’re either in or out. And if you’re out, that’s fine. I don’t care. But you’re not going to change my mind.” He didn’t argue any further but continued to follow you as a silent consent.

Why am I agreeing to do this? Bucky asked himself. He looked at the clock on his phone. A quarter after midnight. If he had been smart, he would’ve just called you a cab and gone on his merry way, or better yet, he wouldn’t have gotten involved in your relationship problems in the first place. Then, at this moment, he would be home, maybe taking a warm shower or warming up the leftover spaghetti he had waiting for him on the top shelf of his fridge. Instead, he was stuck drunk-sitting while heading to Harlem to the house of a man that he wished he could knock the lights out of on most days. It would be a miracle if he was home before sunrise.

He felt your eyes on him, even though he tried to pretend he didn’t notice. It was beginning to dawn on him that you were a person who was hard to ignore.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” You remarked, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jeans. Bucky continued to face forward. A ambulance flew passed with its sirens blaring, and he found himself watching it. When it was out of sight, he refocused.

“There’s not much to say.” A gust of wind hit him square in the face, sending chills up his spine.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” You said softly. “I really can get there myself.” When he glanced at you, he found your glossy eyes were still on him, and for a second, he wanted to tell you to watch where you were walking. The unsteadiness of each step you took made him uneasy, but you hadn’t fallen yet. Not completely, at least.

“I already told you,” He said, trying to sound kind as opposed to the annoyance that he was trying to hide. “You’re wasted. There’s no way I’m letting you go on the subway by yourself.” Without warning you, he began to cross the street and you found yourself jogging to catch up to him.

“I promise I’ll try to be quick at the house,” You told him, panting slightly. With his long legs and your currently slowed down body, it was easy for Bucky to be a few strides ahead of you. “Just grab my stuff and get out. You won’t even have to come inside.” At this, he let out a laugh.

“Are you kidding? Of course I have to come inside.” He didn’t realize he was still laughing until his words came out slightly staggered. “I have to go through Quill’s medicine cabinet to prove he takes those dick enlargement pills that are advertised on porn sites. Steve and I have a bet going.” The sound of your footsteps behind him slowed down. When Bucky couldn’t hear them at all, he turned around to find you about five yards behind.

“There it is.” It was so quiet in the distance that he almost didn’t hear it.

“There what is?” He grew even more confused when you laughed slightly, looking up at the sky as you began to walk again, your body swaying with every step. You opened your mouth to speak as you stumbled sideways and almost collided into a lamp post. Bucky took a few steps forward to help but stopped when you rose your hand at him. Once you were standing straight again, your expression was a mix of sheepish and serious.

“I’ve been asking myself for however long it’s been since we left the bar, you know, why we’re not closer? You’re being so kind to me and caring. Why haven’t we gotten along in the past?” You shook your head as you pointed at him. “And I’ve thought that a lot before when we’ve hung out with the group. But then, almost on cue, you dump on whatever guy I’m dating at the time and I remember  ** _when you say shit like that, it’s literally the reason we can’t be friends._** ”

Bucky stared at you, feeling dumbfounded for the second time that evening.

“You do remember that you just broke up with him, right?” He didn’t mean to sound nasty, but he couldn’t change the tone of voice in time. “I feel like that should give me even more of a right to shit on him.” You scoffed.

“Of course I remember I fucking broke up with him,” You snapped. “But it’s not like this is the first time you’ve done it. If it wasn’t Peter, it was Johnny, or Pietro. Or T’Challa. Any guy that I’ve ever been with, you had a some sort problem with them and you didn’t hesitate to let me know. It was annoying then and it’s annoying now.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say, so instead he opted to not say anything. If he was being honest, he didn’t realize there was any underlying reasons as to why you and him didn’t have a better friendship. He just assumed it was because the two of you just never took the time to try.

As if by magic, the road was suddenly a wave of yellow. Taxis were everywhere, the stereotypical New York City finally in full gear. You raised your hand, waving impatiently for one to stop for you. When one pulled up to the curb, you flashed Bucky a victorious grin, as if the last few minutes were just dust in the wind. He rushed to the door and opened it for you. A habit instilled in him by his father. You mumbled a thank you as you climbed in, scooting over to the far side behind the driver so he could sit.

A large part of him was telling him to run. To go home and let you journey on to Quill’s house on your own. It wasn’t too late, this was only the beginning of whatever this journey was for you. Revenge. Vengeance. Closure. But that was the whole point. It was your journey, not his. He wasn’t obligated to stay. There was no harm in backing out and going home. He had no commitment to you.

“Bucky,” You called out from the car as you leaned over the seat to look at him. “If you wanna go home, it’s okay. Do you know how often I walk around this city by myself? Nothing has ever happened before, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

A rush of emotions filled Bucky’s chest, but the most prominent one was guilt. How often did Quill let you walk around at night by yourself? How often were you drunk when you went on these adventures alone? He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, scolding him for even considering the idea of letting you go off on your own at this time of night while completely plastered. Without a word, he dipped into the car, slamming the door shut and fastening his seatbelt. He pretended not to notice the satisfied look on your face.

“The Hoyt Street station, please,” You said kindly to the driver, trying and failing to hide the slur to your voice. Bucky smirked while shaking his head. As the car pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic, you stared out the window. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as someone called him but he didn’t bother to check it.

“Do you ever wonder how many celebrities have sat in this cab that we’re in right now?” You wondered out loud. Bucky looked over at you, his eyebrows knitted together. “What if Harry Styles sat in this cab? Or Jimmy Kimmel. Oh! Or Sebas-” Bucky’s eyes looked upward.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?” The appalled look on your face radiated devastation, and it wasn’t from the fact that he cut you off.

“Everybody knows who Harry Styles is, Bucky.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s because you’re a fucking idiot, for one thing.” Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but the taxi driver turned slightly.

“I did drive Robert Downey Jr. one time,” He said, his voice thick in a Boston accent. “Great guy. Tipped well. Probably one of the nicest dudes I’ve ever driven.” Bucky felt a slight smack to his shoulder, and when he turned to look at you, he found a surprised look on your face.

“That’s amazing!” You exclaimed, leaning forward into the driver’s seat. “Do you have any other celebrity stories?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky and you stared at the back of the driver’s head, waiting for him to go on. But he never did, and Bucky could tell by your silence that you weren’t comfortable asking. He didn’t blame you, he wasn’t fully comfortable either.

“Do you think Robert Downey Jr. looks like Stark?” You asked him, turning your attention away from the cab driver. His face scrunched up in thought as he compared the two in his head.

“Not at all.”

“Oh, come ooooooon,” You whined, drawing out the last word. “They’re practically the same person. How do you not look at Stark and think he looks exactly like RDJ?” Bucky was silent for a few seconds as he continued to imagine the two next to each other in his head. After a minute, he shrugged.

“I don’t see it.”

“Everyone except you seems to see it, there’s headlines in local papers asking if they’re the same person.” You lifted a finger. “Maybe you forgot what Robert looks like. I’ll pull up a comparison picture.” You rotated in your seat, turning away from Bucky.

“I don’t want to see a comparison picture,” He insisted. You didn’t answer as you stared downward, no longer moving. A moment of silence had past as Bucky waited for you to excitedly pull up the picture. When a sigh left you, his eyebrows furrowed together.

“I can’t show you anyway,” You said in a sheepish tone. He side eyed you, finding your face scrunched up. “I don’t have my phone.” Bucky snapped his head in your direction.

“Where’s your phone?”

“In my purse.”

“Where’s your purse?”

“On top of Peter’s guitar case back at the bar.”

Heat filled Bucky’s cheeks and his chest filled with frustration as he fell back into the headrest. Not just with you, but with himself as well. Of course he should’ve asked if you had everything before the two of you left. Why did he trust a drunk person to grab their things before trying to leave?

“Should we go back?” He asked you as he turned in his seat to look out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you shake your head.

“I’ll just go back for it tomorrow,” You said simply. Your nonchalance did nothing for him as he pulled out his phone and typed out a text to Steve, asking him to find your purse and stick it in Bucky’s locker. Within five minutes, Steve replied with a picture of Sam sporting a red shoulder bag, posing with duck lips and his hips perched forward. Pulling the picture up full screen, he turned his phone towards you.

“Is this your purse?” You whipped around, smirking at the picture.

“Nope,” You said, shaking your head. “That’s not mine. Mine’s a black crossbody.” Bucky bit his lip as he pulled up the keyboard again.

_That’s not her bag. Black crossbody._

It was only a matter of seconds before his phone chimes again.

_Fuck._

Bucky shook his head as he stared out the window, watching the lights and the buildings go by. The nightlife was his main scene for most of his young adulthood, so it only made sense that he took a night job. But recently he found that he wasn’t participating in it anymore. All he did was work and sleep, with the occasional shopping trip. This evening was the first time he could recall not going home immediately after work since his break up with Natasha. Part of him was exhausted at the idea of not being home, but the other part was exhilarated at the idea of adventure.

His phone rang out again, this time with a picture of Sam with a black crossbody bag. He was looking over his shoulder, with a soft smirk on his face as he posed. Bucky rolled his eyes as he showed you the new picture. You laughed as you looked at it.

“That’s mine,” You assured him. “Although I’m almost tempted to let Sam keep it. It suits him.” Bucky looked at the picture again, tilting his head in concentration.

“I think the red one he stole from someone was better.” Swiping his thumb to the left, the red shoulder bag picture reappeared. When he looked back at you, you were nodding.

“You’re right.” The last word was drawn out for a few seconds, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

The taxi came to a stop across the street from the Hoyt Street subway stop. The driver put the cab in park before turning around to look at you and Bucky.

“Fifteen dollars even,” He said simply. Bucky looked at you, finding your eyes rolled upwards as you bit your lip. A sigh escaped him before he stuffed his hand in his pocket to grab his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill and handing it to the driver.

“Keep the change,” He muttered before throwing the door open and climbing out. Noticing you weren’t moving, he grabbed your coat and pulled you out with him. As Bucky shut the door, you leaned over to look into the front passenger side window, smiling sweetly and waving to the driver. Facing forward, he simply raised a hand to you before driving off. When Bucky turned, you were looking around absentmindedly.

“You ready to-“

“OH MY GOD, BUCKY, LOOK AT THAT DOG!”

Sure enough, when Bucky spun around in alarm to look at whatever was making you yell, a beautiful blonde lab was making its way towards the two of you. The leash was held by a man about Bucky’s height who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since the second they found you. You dropped to your knees as the dog got closer, your hands instantly hitting its fur as soon as it was within reach.

“You’re so beautiful!” You said in a tearful voice, and it took Bucky a second to realize that you truly were crying. Sniffling, you looked up at the owner. “What’s his name?”

“Bailey,” The man replied in a deep voice as he watched you. This information only seemed to make you cry harder.

“Bailey, you are such a good boy.” You were gently petting his head with one hand and his back with the other as he smelled your face. “Dare I say, the best boy.” He began to kiss your face as Bucky leaned down to scratch the dog’s back. When he looked back at the owner, he saw him continuing to eye you.

“You single?” The man asked you as you stared deep into the eyes of Bailey.

“Newly.” It wasn’t a thoughtful answer. There was no underlying emotion or meaning behind it. You were too drunk and captured by the dog to notice the advances by his comrade. But Bucky did.

“She’s drunk, buddy,” Bucky informed him. But he didn’t appear to really be listening.

“I see what you’re doing with her, I just want a taste for myself,” The man said suggestively, nudging Bucky slightly. The smirk the man gave him made his cheeks heat up, but he didn’t appear to notice as he looked back down at you. “Does it really matter?”

Bucky could feel it. The blood boiling in his entire body. He already didn’t like the way this stranger was looking at you, but he really didn’t like the way he was talking. What he was implying. It took everything in him to not kick his ass right then and there.

“That depends on whether or not you like having your leg shoved up your ass,” Bucky said, his nose flaring as he stared at the man with intense eyes. Not a second past before the man was tugging on the leash and dragging Bailey the dog away. You stood up, wiping your eyes as you watched the two of them disappear into the darkness.

“I love him, Bucky.”

Eyes narrowed, his head whipped in your direction.

“Love who?” While it was a question, his tone made it sound like a statement. You rolled your head to look up at him, your lip perked out in a pout.

“Bailey.” A laugh forced its way out of Bucky’s mouth as he suddenly felt relieved.

“He was a very good dog,” He agreed. You sighed before turning your body away from where the dog once stood, now facing Bucky. He looked down at you. “You ready to go?” To his surprise, you shook your head.

“We have to go to my brother’s,” You told him. “I’m gonna borrow some money from him for the subway since I don’t have my pass.” Bucky shook his head.

“I don’t mind paying for you. It’s only $2.75. And I have my pass so I won’t even have to pay for myself,” He tried to assure you, but you just continued to shake your head.

“I already owe you for the taxi fare, I don’t need to owe you anymore. Besides…” You shrugged. “My brother owes me money. It’s about time I made him pay up.”

You turned and began to walk, crossing the street towards the station entrance, but when you got across, you kept walking straight, going past it. Bucky followed close behind, keeping his eye on his surroundings and people that walked by. Maybe the dog walker left more of an impression than he would care to admit.

“Where does your brother live?” He asked as he sped up to catch up to you. Lazily, you rose a hand and pointed forward.

“Just a few blocks up this street.”

“I didn’t even know you had a brother.” You looked over at him, and he then noticed the puffiness in your eyes from when you were crying only moments before.

“I feel like there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Bucky,” You said in a dreamy voice. “Don’t sound so surprised.” And despite the pang in his chest when you said it, he knew that you were right. Shoving his hands in his pocket, he walked in silence a few paces behind you. It took until you had gotten to the next street to notice that he wasn’t next to you. Turning, you waited patiently for him to catch up.

“Hey.” The back of your hand bumped his arm, and he glanced at you. “ I know I said you didn’t have to, and I did mean that but…” You shrugged. “I’m really glad you came with me. Thank you.” He bit back a smile, pretending he was still upset with you.

“Well, you should be,” He started, a hint of playfulness to his tone. “Who else would’ve saved you from being snatched up by the asshole with a dog?” You scoffed before looking away from him.

“Bailey is a good boy and loves me and never would’ve let anything happen to me,” You told him defensively. Bucky let out another loud laugh.

“Whatever you say, doll.” He told you as the two of you began to walk again. “Whatever you say.”


End file.
